Death's Door
by RottenSeahorse
Summary: Nick's life is hanging in the balace of life and death, and before he goes he has some thinking to do...


His lips were chapped. Was it that dry outside? He didn't know, hell, he didn't care. His whole body seemed chapped, dry, and draining of life. The ground felt uncomfortable, and he wished he was in a bed instead of on the ground.

He also wished there wasn't blood everywhere… that'd be nice. He wished that everything didn't hurt. He let a choppy breath escape his chapped and bleeding lips, and let the acrid smell of rotting flesh and blood cascade over him in a horrid wave.

He should have been use to the smell by now, having been living with the smell for little over a week now. But it was like some song you kept in your head for a week and you still weren't use to it, it was like this, but the song…the song was horrible. Let's just say the song made you want to kill yourself.

His pulse was getting faint as he lay there thinking over irrelevant topics that couldn't help him survive any longer than he could right now. His nails dug into the hard, dusty soil of the ground below him, and his shoes scuffed against a rock that sat near his feet.

His eyes couldn't target anything clearly, since when he looked up into the sky, all he got was rain. He could hear, although that was getting difficult as well to grasp. The screams and desperate shots of guns were becoming fuzzy, and the vibrations in the ground were the only indication that people were still fighting back.

He couldn't lift up his arm, which was out of the question, since one was practically destroyed, and the other was broken. His legs were numb. One of his legs had made a sickening crack when he hit the ground just a few moments ago, and his other one was the only limb strongly working.

He was still helpless, but whenever a grotesque Infected human would get too near him, he strike his nice dress shoe-covered foot into the monster's bloody and rotting face to protect himself. Usually it would send them back into the other Infectious people and get distracted by something else, but he could get a feeling that this would also soon go out.

He could accidently hurt his other leg, pull a muscle, or have an Infected gnaw on it like a nice chicken bone, but either way, he couldn't keep this up for very much longer.

He was hungry… He could hear his stomach rumbling loudly underneath his white suit, and he rolled his eyes, despite the other problems he was having. _Right now, stomach? Really? You're just going to grumble and whine while I'm dying here in the street? Very cool, stomach, extremely cool._

He sighed angrily, biting his chapped bottom lip as he thought about what death would be like. Well, he might be going through it right now, he didn't even know. His mind wandered to when he was a kid, questioning what it would be like after death.

He'd be so confused, sitting in his room fearing over the thought of how easy it was to die and how hard it was to live. Why couldn't it be flipped around? Why did death have to be so powerful and menacing? Why couldn't life be strong and heroic, like the men he use to read in his marvel comics?

If his arm was working, he'd wipe his forehead, because the sweat was building up above his brow.

His mind then moved from his childhood, to his present time. His teammates might miss him. He remembered always joking whenever he was injured that "_If I go, haha, you guys are gonna miss me!" _Which always got a sharp retort from Coach, or a groan of annoyance from Rochelle.

But Ellis never had something negative to say. He was always in a good mood, which not even the goddamn zombie apocalypse could penetrate. He licked his upper lip, thinking of the younger kid.

To be honest, he liked the kid. He honestly thought the kid was good-hearted and just plain innocent. Well, _too_ honest if you really asked him, but no one ever did. He was just an ass to everyone, even Ellis, who never could fight back with him.

With all those times he would belittle the young adult and Ellis would only laugh along with it and say something kind or funny to him back.

Was the kid on something that always made him so happy? Hell, he surely didn't know, all he knew was that Ellis seemed too happy to always talk to him. Whenever he was hurt, Ellis was the first to come to his aide. When he was lagging behind, Ellis would be going back to check up on him.

"_Are yew doin' okay there, Neek?"_ He could hear the kid now "_Yew need sum boostin' up er somethin'?" _That stupid hick accent always made his skin crawl. That accent always drove him up the wall! Yet…they were soothing when everything was down the shitter for the long run.

He dug up a handful of sandy dirt and let it slip through his dirty fingers as his pulse got fainter, and his breathing became softer.

So this was death, huh? It was almost annoying, if you asked him. It was almost stupid, like why go through this in the first place? His chest skipped a breath, and he choked on an inhale as he closed his eyes, feeling the cold rain splatter and drip off of his face.

The shooting was now extremely fuzzy, or undetectable, and he didn't know if the horde had finished its round, or if his hearing had failed completely.

That hick was always to his rescue in times like this, and he was never grateful for the help the hick gave him. He only brushed him off and limped the rest of the way, not once murmuring thanks to him. Damn…he was an ass to the maximum.

Now, as he was slowly losing himself in the pouring rain and dripping blood, he needed the hick desperately, and yet he wasn't there. He wasn't there leaning over him with a smile plastered on his face, but his eyes as always filled with worry, and saying, "_Damn Neek yew shure got a beatin'."_

No hick came to his rescue, only distant thudding of fast approaching footsteps. His eyes were blurring every second that passed by, which came by horrifyingly slow, until a hazy grey border wrapped around his vision.

And, with a sigh of relief, Ellis's blurry face came into view, leaning over him with fear plastered on his face. No smile was in his expression, no hearty chuckle, no soothing helping voice, no helping hand, just screaming.

"_Neek! DON' GO NEEK!" _His voice came to his ears fuzzy and distant, and he smiled. He didn't know if he smiled or not, but he felt his lips curve up in a smile, and his heart gave a lurch. He didn't sincerely know if the lurching in his heart was from death so close to his doorstep, or If seeing Ellis crying over him was just too much to handle.

"_NEEK! LEMME JUS' GET YEW UP N' I'LL TAKE YEW TUH THE SAFE HOUSE, ALL WARM AN' SAFE AN' DRY!" _Ellis screamed which was only a whisper to his ears. He let his smile stretch out as his strength totally gave out, and he felt himself slump against a close by arm. Before darkness and death consumed him, before the last second of his life fly out of the window, he knew the warmth of the arm he slumped against was Ellis's.

Always and forever Ellis's….


End file.
